


Room of Reflection

by KoreArabin



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Anal, Begging, Bondage, Clamps - Freeform, Dildos, Forced Ejaculation, Humiliation, Mind Control, Mindfuck, Other, Past Rape/Non-con, Rape/Non-con Elements, Self-Lubrication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2019-01-09 22:01:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12285249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KoreArabin/pseuds/KoreArabin
Summary: Grindelwald is still embedded deeply in Graves' sub-and-not-so-subconscious.  When Graves can't cope with it any longer, Grindelwald has provided a room for him to temporarily escape.Graves really doesn't enjoy the escaping.





	Room of Reflection

The voice is there again, niggling, sibilating, an infernal _itching_ , just out of reach at the edge of his consciousness. He’s ignored it for weeks; he’s getting more accustomed to dealing with it, with the passing of time, better than he was at first, when it drove him constantly to the edge of distraction. Now, he can cope for longer with it, before he breaks. But he has not been able to exorcise it completely.

Graves steps into his apartment, shrugs off his overcoat and scarf, and pours himself a few stiff fingers of whisky. The pull is there, the lure, dragging him towards the hidden room, the room _he_ left him. His parting gift, he called it. 

**You’ll never be free of me, darling. Don’t think so for a moment. I’m part of you now, and I’ll always be with you. And you, of course, will feel me _inside_ you, worming my way under your skin, driving you mad with an itch you just can’t scratch no matter how much you _squirm_.**

Graves doesn’t need his wand for this. A simple opening charm, and the room appears. He steps quickly in, and the walls close around him, a perfect cylinder of shimmering mirrored glass.

He pauses, breathing heavily, his tongue between his lips. He knows how it has to begin, but he always fights it to the last, trying to overcome the burning need rising like a fever through his veins. It won’t work. I never does.

Graves clenches his fists and closes his eyes, vibrating with tension.

“Please. _Please_ ”

The low, rumbling laugh seems to come from all around him.

**Percival. How delightful to see you again. What can I do for you?**

Graves grits his teeth. He can’t bear this; he can’t bear his weakness, the humiliation of having to ask his nemesis for what he needs to make him temporarily sane again, to allow him time to be able to cope with it, until he needs it again.

“You know. You know what I want.”

The chuckle tinkles out again.

**You’ll have to be more specific, my dear.**

“You _know_ – do it to me, do it, please.”

Grindelwald’s voice is pure silken malice as he croons, **Still not quite with you, sweet.**

Graves curses, dropping forwards to his knees. “Please! Please. Do what you know I need – bind me – fuck me - _hurt_ me. I need you to hurt me.”

**Poor darling, you _are_ desperate for it, aren't you? What a pity you appear to have forgotten to ask properly to be used, as I taught you. But, no matter; you’ll be begging prettily enough before we finish.**

Graves has never quite got used to the way the air simply comes alive around him without so much as a spell on his part; invisible tendrils make short work of stripping him from his clothing, until he is kneeling, naked and panting, his image reflected back at him from the mirrored walls and floor of the room.

**What do you want today, hmmm? How should Daddy touch you? Such a dirty, panting, little slut you are for me.**

Graves flinches as a moist palm caresses his cheek, slipping lower to squeeze his throat.

**And such a very pretty little boy, when you’re so desperate to be used.**

Graves moans when the implements appear. So many of them – thick, slick leather straps and heavy chains to bind him and dildoes and plugs, ranging in size from the thin and long and flexibly squishy to the hugely bulbous and barbed, to penetrate him. Clamps and hooks to torture him, and hoods and gags to blind and silence; a veritable cornucopia of everything a sexual masochist might need to satisfy himself.

And the voice doesn’t stop: the internal whisper just keeps getting louder - _you want to sit on that barbed dildo, don’t you, baby? Daddy make me fuck myself so hard until I come. Please, no, I don’t want to do that, please don’t make me. Sir, will you pierce my cock and clamp my titties and hurt me? Please, Daddy, choke me ‘til I can’t breathe and fuck me hard on your cock – I miss your cock, Daddy. No, no, no, I don’t want this, I don’t want to -_

The thick, black, shiny straps have already begun to slither across Graves’ skin, as he reaches for the thick, electric blue dildo, its surface elaborately carved with veins and ribs and raised bumps. They bind his arms together loosely behind his back, and around his legs, holding him effortlessly in mid-air, kneeling over the dildo, before thick lubricant begins to drip from his arse.

**Isn’t it lovely and warm, and thick and syrupy? Mmm, just for you, darling. You’ll be so hot and bothered and _sticky_ when you’ve finished fucking yourself on this one, you’ll be begging me for more.**

Graves utters one stifled, whimpering sob as he lines himself up and presses down eagerly on to the huge dildo, and begins to fuck himself energetically, moaning as it angles against his prostate. 

Sometime later, when he’s sobbed and shuddered through at least five juddering orgasms on the huge rubber cock, Grindelwald allows him to attach clamps to his balls and the tip of his cock before he resumes his riding.

**I really do look after you, my sweet boy. The clamps will help you. You can howl all you like, but I won’t force you to come dry, darling. Be thankful for Daddy’s small mercies.**

And, as always, he is.


End file.
